


Taste

by lockedin221b



Series: The Way Blood Flows [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Birthday Sex, Blood Drinking, Body Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Vampire Sherlock, Vampires, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221b/pseuds/lockedin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty years have passed since the werewolves won London from the vampires, since John and Sherlock killed Moran, and since they became lovers. Now John wants to change things, and Sherlock is anything but eager about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thank you to all my wonderful readers, especially Oreo, Katie, and Koontzy for keeping me heartily amused with their messages and comments throughout the duration of TWBF.
> 
> It's also the one scene that takes place before the epilogue that I really, really wanted to write.

John never imagined twenty years could go by quickly. He certainly didn’t think he’d look like he was still thirty on the night of his fiftieth birthday. Then again, he’d never have believed he would become a vampire’s lover. A male vampire at that.

A lover who now wrapped his arms around John’s middle and kissed the curve of his neck. John tilted his head to give Sherlock and his mouth plenty of room to roam.

“You’re thinking,” Sherlock murmured against his skin.

“It’s a typical practice of mine.”

Sherlock turned John around in his arms and pulled him close. “What about?”

“Us.” He smiled. “That’s all.”

But Sherlock’s brow knitted. “Is it?”

“It is.” John leaned up and kissed him. “Now, it’s my first night in St. Petersburg. Are we going to spend it in here, or are we going to actually do some sightseeing?”

“Russia isn’t all that interesting.”

“You said the same thing about Egypt.”

Sherlock sighed. “Very well. Sightseeing it is.” He pulled back a little. “Where would you like to go?”

“What was your favourite part, last time you were here?”

“The last time I was here, the city was just founded. The original Winter Palace was still a sketch.”

John rolled his eyes. “You really want to stay in, don’t you?”

Sherlock took hold of John’s hips and tugged him back in close. “I really would like to, yes.”

“Alright,” John chuckled. “Tomorrow night, though, we get to look around.”

Sherlock nodded before quickly resuming his earlier ministrations on John’s neck.

John hummed pleasantly and leaned into Sherlock. He couldn’t quite keep his mind focused, though.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing’s wrong.”

Sherlock peered down at him. “You’re thinking again. I believe that is usually my bad habit during courtship.”

“Sorry.” John moved to kiss him, but Sherlock held him back.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing… urgent.”

“But it is important.”

John gave a half-shrug. “Yes, but we don’t have to talk about it now. It’ll just ruin the moment.”

After a thoughtful pause, Sherlock conceded with a nod and began manoeuvring John to the large bed. With Sherlock on top of him, John began running his hands down the other man’s chest, lazily searching out buttons to free.

“It is your birthday,” Sherlock breathed hot against his mouth. “What do you want?”

John grinned. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.”

John nipped Sherlock’s lower lip before replying, “This mouth, these teeth and lips and tongue, all over me.”

Sherlock smiled and whispered, “I believe I can accomplish that.”

“I believe you have other nights.”

Sherlock began with the fingers of John’s right hand, starting mostly with soft kisses, occasionally adding a gentle bite or a taste. John closed his eyes and relaxed, focusing his thoughts on Sherlock’s attentions. As Sherlock moved, he peeled away each article of clothing with care. He nuzzled into John’s armpits before kissing there as well. He paid special attention, as always, to John’s scar. When he finished with the arms, lips were more frequently replaced with teeth and tongue. He would only occasionally break the skin, and very like when he did, always sure to lick the blood away and the mild puncture numb. He traced John’s ribs with the tip of his tongue, sucked each nipple slow and hard until John was groaning and writhing under him. He ran his swollen lips along the curve of John’s hips and across his pelvis, down until he could nuzzle the hairs above John’s cock.

He didn’t touch it yet, though, only ghosted his breath over it before dragging off the rest of John’s clothes. He skipped down to John’s toes, kissing each, sucking the tips of the big ones briefly, tracing lines in the arches of John’s feet with his tongue, dragging his teeth lightly across the sensitive tops. He kissed his ankles and calves, nibbled his way up his thighs and back to John’s groin. Again, he stopped short of direct pleasure. He leaned next to John’s ear and whispered, “Back, now.”

John rolled over. Sherlock started this side with the backs of John’s legs. He stopped just under the crease where thighs met buttocks and licked on long strip from the base of John’s spine to his neck. John shuddered from head to toe. Sherlock kissed his shoulder blades and traced the backs of his ribs as he had the front. He left marks at the hips, and more on John’s arse as he finally moved onto those. He covered every centimetre of exposed flesh, and then he spread John’s buttocks with his hands and began with the unexposed.

At the first sensation of the teasing wet tongue, John whimpered. Sherlock dragged only the very tip of his tongue down the perineum. He circled the anus, allowing his tongue to occasionally slip against the hole several times before he finally pressed it inside. He pushed against the muscles until they relaxed and opened to him. Once they had, he started to fuck John with his tongue, and John moaned and keened into the mattress.

When John began whining his name, Sherlock retracted his tongue and released John’s buttocks. He turned John gently onto his back and nuzzled into his neck for a moment. Then he moved back to John’s middle, and the desperate cock matching John’s desperate noises.

John gripped the sheets when Sherlock began sucking on one of his bollocks. He wanted so badly to take hold of his erection and bring himself off, but he wanted Sherlock and his mouth to do it more. So he fisted the linens beneath him and groaned loudly.

“Please,” John panted. “Please. I need it. I need you. Your mouth. Sherlock, please.”

Sherlock only moved to his cock once both bollocks had been attended to, but when he did it was magnificent. Despite everything, despite John’s state, he still went tortuously slow. He licked before he began sucking, covering John’s shaft in saliva. 

When Sherlock swiped the tip of his tongue past the slit, tasting the pre-ejaculate, something like a hollow scream escaped John’s chest, followed by a deep groan. “God, please!”

Sherlock circled his tongue around the glans, and, finally, he tightened his lips around the head and sucked. John came quickly, after only a few more well-timed sucks, and Sherlock took it all into his mouth, drinking John dry in a way that had nothing to do with his vampirism.

When he was done, Sherlock draped himself over John like a blanket, crossing his arms over John’s clavicle and resting his chin on them.

“Give me a moment,” John huffed. “I’ll return the favour.”

Sherlock smiled lazily at him. “I am in no particular rush. I enjoy seeing you like this. Besides, it is your birthday. We can wait until you are aroused again, and you can take me. Or, if you wish, you could watch me pleasure myself.”

John swallowed and grinned. “Decisions, decisions.” He draped his arms around the low of Sherlock’s back. “I am rather fond of the latter, as it’s a much less frequent treat.”

“Then treat you I will.” He kissed dip in John’s neck before climbing off.

John pushed himself toward the head of the bed and propped up a few pillows so he could lean back comfortably.

Sherlock went to their trunks to retrieve the castor oil, something they made sure never to run out of. “How would you like me?”

“Back first,” John said. After two decades of lovemaking, he rarely had to take time to consider how he liked to see Sherlock. It was never the same, but he usually knew when prompted.

Sherlock positioned himself on his knees with his rear toward John. He slicked up one hand with the castor oil before bracing his front end on one forearm. He reached under himself and back. He had amazing reach, and flexibility. Positions John had strained to attempt more than once, Sherlock could often manage with ease. Like now, with his middle finger teasing his own hole.

John licked his lips, almost wishing he hadn’t just climaxed. He watched, pupils blown and eyes heavily lidded, while Sherlock stretched himself, first with one, then two fingers. Sometimes, John found himself as fascinated watching Sherlock open himself up as he had the first time. “Turn around,” John said breathlessly.

Sherlock removed his fingers and turned to face John. He sat with his knees up and spread. He returned his fingers to his loosened anus and wrapped the other around his cock.

“Go on,” John whispered.

Sherlock smiled, and then moaned as his fingers pressed against the tender spot inside of himself. He began fucking himself with his own two fingers, at the same time pumping his fist around his cock.

John climbed down to the other end of the bed and sat behind Sherlock with his legs stretched out on either side. He kissed the nape of Sherlock’s neck and put one hand on his shoulder. The other he threaded under Sherlock’s arms and nudged aside Sherlock’s hand to take over on his cock.

Sherlock braced himself on the mattress with his newly freed hand. He leaned back into John and John began to pull Sherlock off. Sherlock slowed down his fingers to follow John’s pace, speeding up when John did. His head lolled back onto John’s shoulder.

John whispered Sherlock’s name in his ear, and then he bit down on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock climaxed with a loud, long moan, pressing himself into John’s hand and chest, and his fingers into himself.

When Sherlock had come down, which seemed to take less time than it usually did, and pulled himself out of his exposed position, he said quietly, “That was risky, John.”

“What was?”

“Biting me, after I had already tasted your blood tonight.”

John sucked Sherlock’s ejaculate off one of his fingers. “You’re not the only one who likes to taste.”

Sherlock glowered at him. “This is not a joke, John.”

John leaned forward and braced his hand on Sherlock’s thigh. “Maybe it’s what I want.”

Sherlock pushed him back. “No, it’s not.”

“Don’t assume you know what I want.”

“You are still experiencing post-coital-”

“Sherlock!” John sat back on his haunches. “Don’t do that to me. Don’t spin me down to bodily functions.”

Sherlock glanced away. “I apologise.”

“I want to be with you.”

“You are with me.” He looked back at John, his gaze begging John to drop the subject.

“I’m also dependant on you.”

“As I am on you. Is that so terrible?”

John held out his hand, and Sherlock took it. “I want to be your equal, freely.”

“You are. You know you are.”

“I’m not.” John dropped his hand. “And you know this. I understand why you’re reticent, though, so I won’t push it right now.” He clambered off the bed, picking up one of their discarded shirts on the way to wipe himself.

His progress was halted when Sherlock came up behind him and once again wrapped his arms around John’s torso. He pressed his mouth against John’s head. “I am frightened about what would happen.”

John leaned his head back into Sherlock’s chest. “I know. But I’m not Victor. James Moriarty is dead. And we’re not even in the other realm. It’s safe. I’m safe.”

“It hurts. It’s pain you have never felt before.”

“I know. You made me read all about the change, remember?”

“This is nothing to jest about.” Sherlock’s arms tightened around him. “If I change you, we will both have to feed. Do you truly want that?”

“Not on humans, no. But where do we ever go where there’s not at least game or a butcher? I’m not taking this lightly, Sherlock. I’ve thought about it, and I want it. I want to make sure I can be with you, no matter what. I don’t want age or illness to keep me from your side.”

“John…”

He tilted his head.

“We should prepare-”

“I don’t want to wait. Don’t worry; we’re safe.”

Sherlock lowered his head and kissed one of the bruises he had left earlier. He licked gently at another, unmarked spot. He whispered his love against the wet patch of skin and bit. He didn’t drink long, and he quickly licked the spot until the bleeding stopped. He removed one of his hands from John’s torso and lifted it to his mouth to bite into the heel of the palm. 

John cradled Sherlock’s hand and brought it to his mouth. He drank as much as he usually would, enough for the vampire blood to keep him young, only now its effects would be permanent.

As he licked his lips, his heart raced. He knew it was going to start soon, any second, but knowing precisely when—he yelped as pain shot through his chest. It spread rapidly through each limb until he crumpled the ground, Sherlock’s arms the only things keeping him from crashing.

Sherlock carried him to the bed and pulled the covers up to his neck. He stroked John’s damp hair as John cried out and began to writhe with the sharp, tight pains bursting sporadically throughout his body. Sherlock kissed his temple before resting his own there. “I’m here, John.” He took one of John’s hands and gripped it. “You are so strong, stronger than anyone I’ve known. You will make it through this.” He didn’t move from John’s side for the seven hours, twenty-eight minutes, and thirteen seconds it took for the change to complete.


End file.
